


Liminal

by imaginary_golux



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Homecoming, Kissing, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 05:21:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29255130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginary_golux/pseuds/imaginary_golux
Summary: Persephone can remember when it was a little harder to find liminal spaces, the spots where the border between life and death - between the world and the underworld - is thinner, more porous, more passable. She used to have to go deep into a cave, or find a funeral, or - if she was feeling particularly adventuresome that year - leap off a cliff.
Relationships: Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 82
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2021: Apocalypse No





	Liminal

Persephone can remember when it was a little harder to find liminal spaces, the spots where the border between life and death - between the world and the underworld - is thinner, more porous, more passable. She used to have to go deep into a cave, or find a funeral, or - if she was feeling particularly adventuresome that year - leap off a cliff.

These days, all she needs to do is go to the airport.

Airport terminals, she has found, aren’t really _places_. They’re waystations, between-places, neither here nor there, and all of them are somehow the _same_ place, across borders and languages and time. Which means they are some of the finest liminal spaces she has ever encountered. Rest stops on highways are also good, and so are bus stations, but she enjoys airports the most. Not for the atmosphere, really - she’s not fond of the bustle, the tension, the _worry_ that emanates through every airport from the hundreds and thousands of mortals dashing to and fro - but for the jet bridge.

There’s something very pleasing about stepping out of the airport into a quiet, deserted ramp (the airline employees open the door for her, not knowing what they do), and walking down it - walking until the excitement grows too great and she begins to run, and the carpet beneath her feet turns all at once to earth, and the lights dim from artificial brightness to the scattered pleasant glow of the false stars her husband hung upon the ceiling of the great cavern of his kingdom.

He is waiting, always, at the shore of the river: tall and pale and grave, patient as the deep earth, seemingly untouched by time or emotion - until he sees her, and his stern expression melts into a smile as sweet as springtime.

“My queen,” he murmurs, and opens his arms. Persephone flings herself into his embrace, mouth seeking his for the first kiss after so long apart - always so sweet, always so _good_ , to be home again in her husband’s arms.

“Where from this time?” Hades asks, many kisses later. Persephone grins up at him.

“O’Hare - I wanted to see the art exhibits.”

“Were any of them particularly lovely, then?”

Persephone chuckles. “None so lovely as your eyes, my dearest.”

Hades blushes, his cheeks going a delightful pink, and elects to pick her up and step into the waiting boat instead of responding. Persephone giggles and loops her arms around his neck, resting her head against him. It’s good to be home.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the FFC prompt "Terminal," and beta'd by my wonderful Best Beloved, Turn_of_the_Sonic_Screw.


End file.
